


dust hymn

by spangel



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse - Freeform, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-05-01 08:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5198879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spangel/pseuds/spangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The very first day that Pestilence is Buffy Summers, Normal Sixteen-Year-Old Girl With A Family And A Home, she meets Death, and their souls recognize each other instantly.</p><p> </p><p>Death is all that Buffy has ever known, but this Death is different. This Death has a different name, just like she does. He calls himself Angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dust hymn

There are many names for Buffy Summers.

 

The most common one is Pestilence.

 

Pestilence doesn't mean to become Pestilence. Pestilence just wants to find a home, something stable, with a soft bed. Pestilence makes a home in every cell and illness, every lost hope, every cancer. Pestilence walks hand-in-hand with Death, and Death eventually takes every home that Pestilence has ever known, but that part of the story comes later. _  
_

 

Mostly, Pestilence just wants to rest. She touches and touches and touches. It takes a while for her to learn that touching never leads to anything good. Touching only shortens lives.

 

 _So_ Pestilence looks down at her hands, and finds a new name:  _Buffy Summers._

 

It's a nice name. A normal one. Pestilence just wants normality.

 

* * *

 

 

The very first day that Pestilence is Buffy Summers, Normal Sixteen-Year-Old Girl With A Family And A Home, she meets Death, and their souls recognize each other instantly.

 

Death is all that Buffy has ever known, but this Death is different. This Death has a different name, just like she does. He calls himself Angel.

 

It's ironic, she thinks, because angels don't walk with death. (Angels don't walk with Pestilence, either, but -) The angel of Death fell. He was nice, sometimes. The angel of Death was nice. It's ironic. Buffy knows irony like the world, Buffy knows irony like the apocalypse. The angel of Death knew Buffy like irony, and they were friends, but: then he decided to go away. So.

 

Every day, she hopes that today will  _finally_ be the day that she can rest. It never is.

 

"Are you one of us?" Angel asks, voice low. "Are you -"

 

"Pestilence," Buffy replies. "I guess that's who I'm destined to be."

 

* * *

 

 Faith Lehane knows violence, knows torn-open knuckles, knows running. Faith runs and runs. She wants a home, too. Something soft, with a bed. But: girls-like-storms like Faith don't get to rest for very long.

 

So: her next stop is Sunnydale, California. Faith figures that she can get a room in a cheap hotel somewhere, maybe rest for a day. A few days, if she's lucky, and she can sleep and the bed is comfortable and the room doesn't cost much.

 

She had a Watcher, once. Not anymore, though. Faith isn't a Slayer anymore. She runs from that, too.

* * *

 

Pestilence's mother dies. Too early, Buffy thinks. She wasn't supposed to die yet. It's Buffy's fault, probably. Buffy touched. Loved her, even, because Pestilence has been living for a thousand years and has never had a family. Buffy stops loving.

 

She thinks that she's supposed to have a sister. That's the only thing missing from her normal life. But. If she had a sister, she would ruin her, so it is probably better off this way.

 

Angel moves in with Buffy after her mother passes. They talk, for a while, but mostly: they sleep. Sometimes together, sometimes separately. 

 

"Pestilence," Angel sighs. They've probably been living together for a few days, now. Or a few months, maybe years. Buffy doesn't know how long it has been.

 

" _Buffy,_ " she corrects.

 

"Okay, Buffy," Angel says, "I feel something. Here, in Sunnydale."

 

"Like what?"

 

"Another one of us."

 

Buffy's eyes widen. "You mean -"

 

"War is here. If we can find War, we'll be closer to the end."

 

"Then we can rest?"

 

"And then we can rest."

 

* * *

 

 

It isn't hard to find War, because War kills a man, and every news station in Sunnydale covers the story. 

 

Faith Lehane. That's what the media calls her. Buffy knows that she is War, instantly, and they say that Faith used some sort of wooden stake to stab this man to his death, they say that Faith tells them that it was an accident but she can't come up with a reason as to why she was walking around at night with a stake. They give her life in prison, and eventually the story fades from the news.

 

Buffy and Angel visit War -  _Faith -_ in prison, eventually. Angel says that they can't go until the time is right. 

 

"Who the hell are you guys? How'd you even get in here? You're not on the list - actually, I don't even have a list."

 

"We have our ways," Angel tells her. "I'm Death - I'm  _Angel,_ and this is Pesti -  _Buffy._ "

 

"We know what you are, Faith," Buffy adds, voice low and rumbling.

 

"Oh, yeah?" Faith laughs. "What am I?"

 

"War," Buffy tells her. "Violence with skin and bones."

 

Faith looks touched, for a moment, but spits back  _You're crazy_ like a trap, a defense mechanism.

 

"Maybe," Buffy laughs. "But you've always known you were special, I can feel it."

 

"I'm special?" Faith shakes her head. "No. I'm just another girl."

 

"Just tell her, Buffy."

 

"You're a key element in the apocalypse," Buffy tells her. "You're a horseman. Um, horsewoman? I don't know."

 

Faith looks down. She believes Buffy, for a moment. Faith is everything that she's been fighting to prevent. It would make sense. Faith rebels, and runs, and rebels, and kills. It was an accident, but she still remembers the blood on her shirt and the way it took days until the stains on her fingers began to fade. 

 

"Right," Faith says. "What makes you think I'd ever believe you?"

 

"You don't have to believe us. You have to trust yourself. I know you feel the connection."

 

Faith waits for a few minutes, tries to feel it. She looks at Buffy, looks deep, and Buffy looks like someone she's known for her entire life. Something like an imaginary friend she had when she was younger. When she was a child, her imaginary friend was the only thing she had. No dolls, no pretty bows or pink dresses. Torn clothing, instead. Sticks and dirt.

 

Angel is thin and pale, and he looks like every good thing that Faith has lost. A family, a place to rest. He looks like rest, looks like serenity. Faith has only ever wanted to rest.

 

"So what?" Faith sighs. "What am I supposed to do about it?"

 

"You're a strong girl," Angel tells her, "you know what you have to do."

 

"Stand back," Faith says. She puts the phone down and crashes through glass - some of it scrapes her along the way, but that's okay - blood is all that Faith knows, now. Blood is the only thing that has ever been there for her. Blood, and the image of Buffy Summers.

 

She takes their hands, and runs again. 

 

* * *

 

She sleeps for a while, and dreams about the apocalypse, dreams about riding a red horse and leading them into battle. There's Buffy and Angel and a man that she doesn't recognize. He looks like Angel, almost. Faith tries to assign him a name for ease, and can only come up with  _William._

 

William must be Famine, then. He looks like it, looks like something malnourished yet full and plump. Faith shivers.

 

* * *

 

"So, what do we do now?" Faith asks. "When can we rest?"

 

"After we find Famine," Angel tells her, and spits out the name  _Famine_ like it's poison. "When we find Famine, the apocalypse will unfold. Then, we can finally rest."

 

"You know Famine, don't you?"

 

"Yes," Angel admits. "We were friends, once. Lovers, even. I don't know what happened."

 

"Famine and Death," she laughs. "Sounds like you two were made for each other."

 

"We were all made for each other, you know," Angel says. "We're incomplete without Famine. We're all supposed to be in love."

 

"Oh," Faith says. She thinks about it - a family, three people who love her, three people to hold her down so she stops running. "Are we?"

 

"Not yet," Angel replies. "But we will be."

 

* * *

 

"Spike," he says, whispering into his phone, "I need you. You have to come to Sunnydale."

 

"Can't resist me, can you?"

 

"Whatever, I guess not. Will you come to Sunnydale?"

 

"I'm a few hours away, yeah," Spike says. "Why, though?"

 

"It's time. I found the other two."

 

* * *

 

 

When Spike arrives at the Summers house, the four of them link arms as the world starts to crumble around them.

 

The house disintegrates, the sun turns to black, the air becomes cold. People run from their homes and scream. The four of them can only smile.

 

"What do we do now?" Buffy asks.

 

Faith, Spike, and Angel say it all at the same time:  _We rest._ _  
_

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> "Dear lie still along my old web  
> Cursed by your dust filled head
> 
> Little voices left to rot and plot  
> The clenching of your teeth  
> Might help you sleep  
> It will not lift you" - Dust Hymn // Purity Ring
> 
> This is not my best work, but I got the idea and I had to write it.


End file.
